


Blowing a Gasket

by anniespinkhouse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car!Baby, Car!smut, Crack, Objectification, Other, POV Outsider, Voyeurism, human!dean, male!Impala
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniespinkhouse/pseuds/anniespinkhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Dizzojay's prompt - 'Another car jealously watching Dean wash and wax his baby," over at the The 4th Annual Outsider POV Comment Fic Meme on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blowing a Gasket

**Author's Note:**

> IDK. Really I have no idea how this got so smutty, though it isn't sexually explicit (unless you're a car). Trying to pick tags was a nightmare. 
> 
> I've tried to be as anatomically correct as possible but I'm not a mechanic so there may be errors!
> 
> Disclaimer: Baby and the boys don't belong to me. I just like to play with them before handing them back, all used up and dirty, to Kripke and the CW.

The motel parking lot sat to one side of the highway. The drone and swish of vehicles barely ever ceased and fumes hung in dank air. Susie was chilly and grubby and bored.  
  
She heard his sexy growl before she saw him, and when he swung around the corner, all confidence and style, Susie perked up. She blinked and did a double take, then preened herself a little.  _Well, hello handsome_. For once, waiting on Niamh and the kids might have its advantages. The newcomer was fit; muscular, dark and lean but not flashy like some guys she'd met. He pulled up by the spigot opposite, as if to show off his classic lines and shiny chrome to her.  
  
She was at just the right angle to wink a solitary ray of sunshine from her headlamp but there was no cheeky response.  _Oh,_ but the new guy may as well have had hearts in his headlamps with the way he looked at his driver.  
  
She hunkered down on her suspension, stealing sidelamp glances at them. Okay, so his driver was tall with pretty green eyes, pouty-sex lips and a macho attitude to compensate, but his clothes were dusty and ripped, and he was smeared with some sort of sticky goo. She shuddered at the state of the man's shoes and hoped that the black car was wearing some rubber protection mats.   
  
His driver called him 'Baby' and patted his roof affectionately as he got out. Niamh had never touched Susie like that. He launched Baby's keys through the air for the person who was riding shotgun. The passenger somehow matched Baby – tall and muscular and lean with dark hair. His pants were ripped at the knees and a nasty cut scabbed on his cheek.  
  
“Get the bags Sam, I want to check out that spigot. Need to get that evil crap from my Baby's paintwork.”  
  
Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, "Okay, Dean, but she's not the only one."  
  
_She!_  Well really! Susie had met her fair share of mis-gendered cars, bikes and even trucks but Baby was obviously male. I mean, you don't see a rear fender like  _that_  on a lady and she could only imagine what was under the hood. People were so stupid.  
  
“Are you calling me dirty, Sammy?”  
  
Sam crinkled his nose adorably, “You stink.”  
  
“Huh!”   
  
Now that Susie looked closely there were spatters of mysterious goo on Baby's fender and over his nearside door. It wouldn't be enough for Niamh to worry about. Hell, Niamh was calm enough when any of the kids puked on Susie's upholstery, and that  _stank_.   
  
Come to think of it – Susie's a/c filter wrinkled at the edges; there _was_ a rather obnoxious smell drifting over from Baby's direction.  
  
Baby opened his trunk smoothly to let Sam grab their bags. There was an obvious tenderness between them, and Baby clearly welcomed Sam's touch as eagerly as he did Dean's.  _Humph, well!_  Weren't they the American dream? It made her feel all...well...unreasonable. Okay then, perhaps Baby wasn't  _all that_. He was too old for her and he probably didn't even have ABS. There was no reason for her to get excited but she would ogle the pleasant view while she waited for Niamh to return.   
  
Ten minutes and a bucket of sudsy water later, and Susie had to doubt her good intentions.   
  
Baby was taking a bath in the motel parking lot. It was obscene.  
  
Dean wiped the back of his arm over his forehead. A trail of bubbles drifted in the air beside him and a drip of water pooled from his damp hair and trickled down his face, over his well defined cheek and on to his jaw. His pink tongue protruded between his lips and he licked them to a shine. The drop continued it's journey dodging short stubble in a crazy zig-zag, and then sliding into the concave dip of Dean's throat, to join the fine perspiration that shined there, accentuating his golden freckles.  
  
Susie didn't notice all that. Her headlamps were fixed on the way that the foam clung wet to Baby's form. Her wipers twitched as Dean wrung out a large sponge with long, strong fingers and returned it to Baby. Each stroke of the sponge was loving and firm. Dean reached every curve, dip and... she blushed...  _each embellishment_  of Baby's bodywork. When the length of Baby's hood made it difficult for Dean, he reached the delicate area between the hood and windscreen by pushing himself groin-to-hood on tippytoes. Dean's pert and round ass was displayed admirably in the jeans which clung wet and tight to him. She heard a wolf whistle from one of the rooms and the sound of Sam laughing.  
  
It was so...  _up close and personal._  She tried to imagine having a massage like that, under a firm, caring body, with every panel and crevice explored. The Magic Tree hanging from her rear view mirror shivered with her excitement, but it left her cold. All she had to look forward to was sticky fingers poked into her ashtrays, and an unpleasant, greasy mechanic, who revved her up and then spilled oil into her engine before slamming her hood and handing her back. If she was lucky, Niamh would take her to the car wash where she would be blasted with cold water and scoured with relentless bristles that made her itch and left scummy deposits in private places. It wasn't fair!  
  
Baby couldn't maintain his aloof persona when Dean fetched the hose to rinse him. His washers swished excitedly and there was a bounce in his suspension. He endured no cruel blast of cold water from afar, but enjoyed a gentle shower administered by Dean - all soft touches  _all over,_  with careful long fingers which caressed every dip and hole with care.  _Mmm_. Susie thought it would be heaven. She longed for a wet touch that got right into her door handles. 

 

 

 ***

Dean was soaked through when he was done rinsing Baby. The goo had sluiced from him and now the only discernible smell was of car shampoo. He pulled his wet shirt off, then more layers, to reveal pale freckled skin, over a broad, firm chest. He ran one hand through his water-flattened hair and with the other he scrubbed his torso dry before discarding the clothes in a pile on the muddy ground. Seen bare-chested he was lean but there was a certain softness to his obvious strength. He wrestled his wet jeans to pull them up, covering the elastic top of jersey boxer briefs and the jut of his hip bones.

***

  
Wax polish smelt heavenly. Susie had never seen it before, not the sort which comes in a can and decadently smears a fine layer of perfumed oil all over your body. It was what came next though, that got her hot under the hood.

Dean used a large soft cloth to buff Baby. He caressed it slowly and sensuously over baby's paintwork, slowly, _too slowly_ , revealing Baby's true deep shine. He leaned into Baby to stroke him softly, and his chest grazed Baby's hood and rubbed along the edge of his roof, making his perky pink nipples shine with oil. He built up a rhythm and Baby began to rock in time with it, showing not a care that any other vehicle in the lot could witness his wanton behavior. 

Susie wasn't sure when she started to rock along with their actions but there was an undeniable thrill in her throttle and she could feel her dipstick vibrating deep within her oil pan.

Dean finished polishing Baby's roof, hood and sides. He stopped to open a can of soda. He threw back his neck to drink it, revealing the bob of his throat as he swallowed. He drank greedily from the condensation-clad can. It frothed and spilled sticky over his plush lips. 

Metal creaked needily somewhere in Baby's bodywork.

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and belched. “Okay, Baby. Gonna finish this with me?”

Baby rocked and bounced as Dean buffed his trunk, fast and firm. Slicked by wax, his clever cloth caressed every inch of Baby from the very top, by the rear window, down to the broad underside of his fender. Dean's shoulder muscles bulged and a round bead of sweat trickled down the curve of his spine as he put all his energy into it. 

Air puffed from the space between Baby's wheel and the wheel arch, and the creak of metal became a grating moan.

It was a hot display, Susie's fan came on and still she couldn't cool. Her crank casing felt like it could crack at any moment. 

Suddenly, Dean stopped. Baby's horn gave a single loud blast. 

“Hey, Sam! Food, Sam!” Dean yelled across the lot to his passenger who leaned against the door to their room, watching the display with bright- eyed interest. 

Baby shone like jet. He settled back on his wheels with an _oof,_ looking satisfied, and loved, and  _so fine._  Susie could just make out a pool of liquid under his exhaust and a round bead of liquid which dripped from it, to the ground.

It was all she needed to push her over the edge. She climaxed in her combustion chamber, suddenly sticky with creamy white juices covering her engine. She sighed and for a moment her silver paint turned pink in the struggling sunlight.

Baby preened himself with a smug look and directed a sly side-lamp wink at Susie.

Dean strode to the motel room to join Sam. Somehow he managed to swagger, on his bow legs in his too-tight wet jeans. 

 

***

  
There was a silver car in the parking lot when Sam and Dean left the motel, clean and neat in their F.B.I. suits. 

“I don't understand it,” said the woman who peered under its bonnet. 

In the back of the car, two children wailed and another scribbled on the seat with a sharpie.

“What's wrong?” asked Dean, peering under the hood with her.

Sam didn't need to look closely to see the pool of oil under the car.

“It's making an awful noise and there's smoke, and this horrid white stuff,” Niamh said.

“Coolant has mixed into the oil,” Dean said knowledgeably, “It looks like its blown its gasket.” 

“Is that expensive?”

Sam and Dean nodded together.

“Oh, crap!”

“Do you have transport? Anyone to call?” asked Sam.

She got out her cell phone, “Yeah, thanks. My husband will come and get us.”

“Okay then.” They smiled politely and walked away.

Three children wailed on Susie's back seat.

Niamh huffed. “This is so unfair,” she said to nobody in particular.

Susie rolled her headlamps. It served Niamh right for not looking after her the way that Dean looked after Baby.

Baby drove out of the parking lot with Sam and Dean. His headlamps shone, and as he swung his trunk around the curves of the road his paintwork reflected light like a mirror. She watched and listened until the last faint growl of his engine receded, until all she could see was an endless ribbon of mud-splashed blacktop, and all she could hear was the drone and swish of traffic on the highway. 


End file.
